


Then Make No Sound

by DoreyG



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: (Except does it count as secret if it's only a secret to the people involved?), Awkward car conversations, Everyone Thinks They're Together, M/M, Secret dating, Suddenly discovered relationship, Until this, everyone thinks they're doing it, except them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 09:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1978251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Seawoll asked me if you were my 'bit of fluff on the side'," Nightingale blurts, and then goes very staring and silent - eyes bulging, skin paling, the whole kit and caboodle as... Somebody has probably said. Somewhere. Once.</p>
<p>A long moment ticks by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then Make No Sound

"Peter," Nightingale starts slowly, one hot and stuffy day when we're both (of _course_ ) stuffed into the Jag for several hours "...Can I talk to you about something?"

I'm hot, I'm tired, my legs are cramping and we still have at least a few hours to go - I blame all of that for why I don't start feeling uneasy pretty much immediately, "why not? Better than watching you engage in another staring match with the radio for the next few hours."

"I have _never_ -" Nightingale catches himself at my smirk, glares stubbornly at the road for a long few minutes (as I continue smirking; hey, never pass a good chance by)... "Have you noticed other people treating us oddly lately?"

"We're the magical arm of the law, boss," and... Yep, I'm still smirking. I can't help it, he just _provokes_ the feeling in me when he's like this, "of _course_ people are going to treat us oddly."

"Yes, but-" Nightingale hesitates, bites his lip, makes an odd growling sound, bites his lip again; I stare at him, the smirk fading away by small increments into something slightly puzzled and slightly worried, "more oddly than _usual_ , I mean."

I consider this, deeply "...Not really?"

"Not even _once_?"

"No...?"

" _Peter_."

"What?" I blink at him a touch defensively, curl a little further into my corner of the car and fight the slightly screaming urge inside me to get him to the nearest hospital, "I mean, perhaps Stephanopoulos has been a little nicer to me than usual - but that's all balanced out by Seawoll being a bit more of a di- a tiny bit more abrasive than usual. And Walid's started smirking at me when we swing by; which is slightly _weird_ , but probably his own personal business. Oh, and Lesley keeps laughing at me - but, let's be honest here, she's always-"

"Seawoll asked me if you were my 'bit of fluff on the side'," Nightingale blurts, and then goes very staring and silent - eyes bulging, skin paling, the whole kit and caboodle as... Somebody has probably said. Somewhere. Once.

A long moment ticks by.

" _What_?!" I blurt, twisting around in my seat to face him.

"Well, he didn't really ask; more snidely commented in passing, when I was finishing up the paperwork for the Pettigrew case and-" Nightingale drags in a deep breath, gives me a somewhat awkward look out of the corner of his eye "...And that's what I said."

"That's ridiculous," I splutter, only aware that I'm moving my hands a few moments after I do so - like everything has gone into slow motion besides me and my governor across from me, "I mean, I'm not even gay! And you're not even gay! And- and-"

Nightingale is blushing. Actually _blushing_ , red creeping up his pale cheeks at a rate that'd put the car we're currently sitting in to shame.

"Oh," I blink at him, "really?"

"Well," he sinks a little further into his seat, coughs again - the red continues to spread up his cheeks, lending him a certain colour that would probably be called aesthetically pleasing in some circles, "I suppose bisexual would be a slightly more accurate term, if we're getting into that, but..."

I consider this. At length. With internal pie charts and Excel sheets and _everything_ "...True, I suppose."

"I-" and he blinks at me, actually turning his head for a long few moments before I cough and his eyes snap back to the (thankfully) empty Motorway stretching out in front of us "...Oh, really?"

"It'd make sense," I study the verges, vaguely green in places but mostly filled with the type of existential despair that tends to strike things on Motorways, and then shake my head - turn back to him with a new sense of purpose, "but how could anybody think that we were dating?"

"I don't know!" Nightingale nods firmly, looking somewhat relieved (and a little... Oddly disappointed) at my totally founded and logical protests, "we don't behave like- as- in the manner of a couple at _all_. It's completely absurd."

"I mean," I sniff, straighten in my seat in the manner of a grand speechmaker (speaker? Speechifier?) about to give his magnum opus to an adoring crowd, "just because two men work together-"

"And learn together," Nightingale adds, nodding in somewhat rabid agreement.

"And solve crimes together."

"And do magic together."

"And face great danger together."

"And face dangerous magic together."

"And go home together after the greatly dangerous magic is done being greatly dangerous."

"And eat together at that home after the aforementioned dangerous magic has been neutralized."

"...Or eat out together, if we can't get back home after the whole greatly dangerous magic shebang."

"And have reasoned conversations with each other, no matter where we're eating."

"And smile at each other, regardless of whether food is being consumed or not."

"And laugh together."

"...And walk home together, sharing that laugh over one of our various inner jokes while our shoulders bump in a way that couldn't at all be regarded as significant."

"And feel great relief that neither of us have been killed yet. Because the world would look somewhat bleak without somebody to smile at, or laugh with, or share hidden jokes with, or get up in the morning and make tea for, or imagine cuddling up to at night whether the day has been cold or hot, or..."

Nightingale trails off, we stare at each other with steadily growing shock.

"...We're dating," I conclude, after licking my lips several times and then getting incredibly distracted by the way that Nightingale- _Thomas'_ eyes shoot right to them.

"It appears so," Ni- Thomas agrees, with an expression rather like he's just been hit by a train. A train carrying candy. That is quite heavy and a little prone to crushing him. But still, after all is said and done, his favourite kind of candy so quite nice really "...This means that Seawoll is right, doesn't it?"

"Ugh," I pull a face, that turns into an irrepressible smile, that turns into another face because _ew_ , that turns into possibly the widest grin that I've ever pulled because _what the hell_ "...Hey, boss?"

"Don't- yes?"

"I don't suppose we could pull off into the next layby to, um... Well."

There's a long pause, filled with several unsaid points such as 'that's illegal' or 'this is a bad idea' or even 'do you _really_ want to kiss me for the first time in a layby next to an extremely polluted motorway? _Really_?'

"...Yes," he says, and smiles the brightest smile that I've ever seen.


End file.
